


Should've Just Netflix 'n' Chilled

by deli (deliciousirony), firefly124



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-26
Updated: 2018-06-26
Packaged: 2019-05-24 06:40:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 14,717
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14949554
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deliciousirony/pseuds/deli, https://archiveofourown.org/users/firefly124/pseuds/firefly124
Summary: It had been a fun night out, seeing the latest Marvel movie with his brother, Cas, and Gabe.  Dean should’ve known there was trouble around the corner.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Crystal Clear](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15053852) by [delicirony (deliciousirony)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/deliciousirony/pseuds/delicirony). 



> Created for the DeanCas ReverseBang. [Art](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15053852) by delicious-irony, fic by firefly124. 
> 
> firefly124: Many thanks to @mistresspandora for alpha-reading and @wargurl83 for beta-reading. Thanks also to @superhoney and @tobythewise for help finding the title. As an aside, this was 75% done when 13x20 aired, not to mention being set in some vague post-s12 time period, so any canon this disagrees with, just… *hand waves* And I apologize, yet again, for inadvertently spoiling @deliciousirony while we were brainstorming. *winces* Thank you again for such a delicious (heh) prompt and all the fun brainstorming!
> 
> delicious-irony: The biggest thank you to Firefly for writing this amazing fic for my prompt and for being so much fun at chasing plot bunnies! I love that there was this slightly cracky idea and we both just went YES

This movie was easily the most ridiculous of all the ones in this series that Dean had dragged him to.  Castiel couldn’t be too upset with Dean for making him watch this, he supposed. Not that he would be, anyway.  Watching Dean’s face light up was one of the reasons he actually didn’t mind being “made” to watch movies with him.

There was one scene in particular that was bothering him, though.  It had an odd resonance to it, like something scratching at the back of his mind as Thor’s hammer disintegrated in Hela’s hand.  He’d never experienced anything quite like it. A human might experience such a thing because their limited minds did not have the ability to keep every memory clearly organized and easily accessible, but this was not a problem he or any angel would ever have.

“So, what did you think?” Dean asked.  “Awesome, right?”

“While that is not the adjective I would have chosen, it was certainly entertaining,” Castiel replied.

“Aw, c’mon, bro!” Gabriel put in.  “You gotta admit, that Hiddleston guy has Loki down pat.  I mean, not the details, but the style. The presence.”

“The pretentiousness,” Dean muttered.

“Hey!” Sam snapped.   “C’mon, Dean. Cut it out.”

“It’s okay, Samsquatch.”  Gabriel said, laying a hand on Sam’s arm.  “I mean, he’s not wrong.”

Dean snickered at that.

“Who they really didn’t get, though, is Thor,” Gabriel continued.

“You know… ? Of course you know Thor,” Dean said.  He shook his head. “Why do I even ask these things?”

“Glad you’re catching up, Dean-o,” Gabriel said, slapping him on the shoulder.

Castiel glared at his brother.

“So, what did they get wrong?” Sam asked.

“Well, for one thing, Thor was _way_ grumpier,” Gabriel said, rolling his eyes.  “No way he cracks that ‘friend from work’ joke in the arena, for starters.”

By the time they reached the Impala, Sam and Gabriel were debating whether the hammer Sam had found at some auction was truly Mjolnir, and if so, why he hadn’t retained it.  Again, Castiel found himself with that sense of a thought just beyond his reach, though he couldn’t fathom why. He had not ever come into contact with the legendary weapon, after all, unlike, apparently, Sam Winchester.

“That is a fair question,” Castiel put in.  “Even if it were an imitation, it sounds from your tale as though it was a formidable weapon.”

“It got kinda chaotic, you know?”  Sam ran his fingers through his hair.  He opened the door when Dean unlocked it and climbed into his usual spot, leaving the two angels to climb into the back seat.  “But you’re right. We’ve had a few situations where it probably would’ve come in handy.”

“Maybe,” Dean said as he started the engine, “but, dude, it’d take up half the trunk!”

“I do think it was a bit odd to have destroyed such an iconic symbol in this movie,” Castiel mused.  It wasn’t the thing that bothered him the most, but it definitely did bother him.

“C’mon, now,” Gabriel said.  “You know Thor needed to lose the hammer so he’d figure out the power really came from him all along.  You know, like Dumbo and the feather?”

Sam shuddered at that, which seemed odd.  But something else caught more of Castiel’ attention.

“You don’t sound as though you are only speaking of the movie,” Castiel said.  “Are you saying this is something the movie got right?”

“In a way.”  Gabriel shrugged.  “I mean, obviously Thor and his hammer got separated.  Otherwise, Sam couldn’t have found it at that auction, right?  I mean, assuming it was the genuine article, which we’ll never know for sure since he didn’t keep it.”

“What, so he pawned it to pay for mead?” Dean asked.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Gabriel said.  “Obviously he would’ve hawked it for… well, actually, he was pretty fond of mead, come to think of it.  Doubt that’s why he lost the hammer, though.”

Castiel narrowed his eyes at his brother.  He had that look in his eyes that meant either he was hiding something or up to something.  Frequently both. He did not say anything, though. It was pointless (and sometimes risky) to push Gabriel when he looked like that.

“What I don’t get,” Dean said, “is why they just wrote Jane out like that.  I mean, she was pretty badass in her own right, and they never really explained what happened.”

“I think it had more to do with the actress’ schedule or something,” Sam said.  “But you’re right, that could’ve been handled better back in Ultron.”

“Dude, nothing was handled right in that movie,” Dean said with a shake of his head.

“They’d have to write her out sooner or later,” Gabriel said.  “She’s mortal. Thor’s not. Maybe she caught on to the fact that wasn’t going to have a happy ending and split.”

“That makes even less sense than writing her out with no explanation,” Dean said.  “They obviously had something, and she didn’t seem to scare that easy.”

“Or maybe she wasn’t the one who got scared,” Gabriel retorted.  “Maybe Thor realized he couldn’t exactly preserve her in amber for all eternity and decided to cut his losses.”

“Dude, what?” Sam and Dean asked in unison.

Castiel tilted his head and regarded his brother.  There was an odd vehemence behind his words.

“That sounds like the voice of experience,” Castiel mused.  “Have you, perhaps, found yourself in a similar situation?”

“Who, me?”  Gabriel laughed.  “Nah. I mean, don’t get me wrong.  Humans can be loads of fun, especially one-on-one, if you know what I mean.  But I’ve never been stupid enough to get _attached_.”

“Methinks the gentleman doth protest too much,” Castiel said.  Kali was almost certainly not the only non-angel Gabriel had allowed himself to grow “attached” to.  Not with how seriously he was taking this.

“Methinks my brother has his head up his ass, as usual,” Gabe retorted.  “We almost there? This ground transport thing’s for the birds. Well, not the birds, actually.  Their way is _definitely_ better.”

“Keep your pants on, Gabe,” Dean said.  “And do _not_ zap Baby back to the bunker again!”

“Yeah, yeah.”  Gabriel folded his arms and sank back into the bench seat, a stubborn pout on his face.

While it was true that travel in cars was both slow and confining, Castiel had come to appreciate the experience of the journey.  Clearly, Gabriel had not.

 

~*~

Once they were back at the bunker, Dean whipped up a quick dinner for them all.  Well, for him and Sam, mostly, though Cas made an attempt at being polite by nibbling at the molecules while Gabe held out for dessert.  It had been a decent evening all around. The movie had been awesome. (Hilarious, but awesome.) The drive home had gotten a little weird, but then, that’s what happened when you let Gabe tag along.

“Pie?  Dean-o, I take it all back, and I’m never killing you again,” Gabe said as he slathered half the tub of ice cream onto his slice.

“Dude, you’re just lucky I don’t remember that shit,” Dean retorted.  “Should still gank your ass on principle for traumatizing Sammy. He still has panic attacks when that stupid song comes on the radio!”

“Shut up, jerk,” Sam said, rolling his eyes.

“Make me, bitch.”  Dean grinned at him.

“Dean, please do not kill my brother.  Gabriel, please stop antagonizing Dean.”  Cas sounded like a parent getting ready to send squabbling kids to their corners.

“How was I antagonizing?  All I did was thank him!” Gabe held his hands out, palms up, as if that would make him look innocent.

Cas raised an eyebrow at him.  “You said several things, Gabriel, but I did not hear ‘thank you’ among them.”

“Okay, fine.”  Gabe shoveled apple pie and caramel swirl ice cream into his mouth and (thank Chuck) stopped talking.

One of the nice things about having Gabe around was he had no patience for stuff like washing dishes.  He just snapped his fingers, and it was all clean and put away. Probably in all the wrong places, and Dean would have to be careful opening the cabinets for the next few days in case of booby traps, but he and Sam were getting tired, so it was nice to be able to skip the cleanup.

“So what are you two gonna do while we mere mortals get our shut-eye?” Sam asked.

Dean wasn’t entirely sure he’d have asked that, because he was almost certain he didn’t want to know the answer.  At least, he didn’t want to know Gabe’s answer. He was pretty sure Cas would go for the usual “night of correcting all the inaccuracies in the library” approach.

“Don’t worry ‘bout us, Sammich.  We’ll figure something out.” Gabe grinned.

“That’s what I’m afraid of,” Dean muttered.  “Could you maybe not spend the time creating bizarre alternate realities?”

“Damn, there go my plans.”  Gabe waggled his eyebrows.

Dean rolled his eyes and went to get ready for bed.  He brushed his teeth, washed his face, stripped down to his boxer briefs, and climbed under the covers.  He sighed with contentment as the memory foam mattress contoured itself to him. For once, there was no impending doom, no demonic plot (that they knew of).  They could just chill and relax, and it was awesome.

Dean’s dreams, though, were weird, even by his standards.  Sure, there was Thor descending on the Bifrost like a badass while Valkyrie strode along it swinging her sword, and then both of them needing to work off all the extra adrenaline once the bad guys were vanquished.  That dream, he had pretty much expected. Anticipated, even.

This one, though, he was trying to wake up from.  He was surrounded by some kind of glass that made the light look all weird.  His room looked fifty times bigger than it should, and his boxer briefs had gone missing.  Pinching himself didn’t do anything, but then, it usually didn’t. His dreams were stubborn like that sometimes.  He pounded on the glass, but it was too thick to break and he didn’t have enough room to really get a running start and try ramming it.  At best, he could manage a step and a half. That didn’t stop him from trying, just from succeeding.

His yells echoed back to him.  He hoped that in the waking world he was really yelling and Sam would come shake him awake, because nothing he was doing here was getting him anywhere.  Even in his hell dreams, Dean didn’t think he’d yelled himself this hoarse, though.

Finally, he’d had enough.  He hadn’t wanted to go this route, because he didn’t want Cas to get it in his head that he needed to “watch over” Dean while he slept like he used to.  That could get real embarrassing real fast. But this had gone on too long, and nothing was waking him up.

“Cas,” he croaked, “buddy, could you please come wake me up from this stupid dream?  It sucks and nothing I do is working.”

An enormous clap of thunder sounded.  Was this about to get worse?

Yes, apparently.

Dean’s glass prison tilted on its side and swooped around like friggin’ Willy Wonka’s elevator or some shit.  When it finally stopped, he was upright again, and something absolutely huge was staring at him. Except, not just something.  He knew those wide blue eyes that were staring at him in horror. Normally, he’d think the pink staining those cheeks was adorable, not that he’d ever admit to it.  But right now, he just had a horrible sinking feeling in his stomach.

“Cas?” he asked.  “Is that you?”

 


	2. Chapter 2

 

Castiel examined the crystal that had been in the middle of Dean’s bed.  The crystal that held a tiny, very naked, and obviously terrified Dean. How could such a thing have happened here, in the bunker?

He didn’t have to consider the question for long.

“Gabriel!” he bellowed.

He winced as he saw Dean cover his ears, as he’d done back when Castiel had first tried to speak to him with his true voice.  Of course, things would sound much louder to him now, and it was entirely possible that the crystal amplified things further. It would take some study to determine exactly what it was doing.  Time that he hoped not to spend, because Gabriel needed to get in here and fix this right now.

Except he wasn’t doing that.  Castiel huffed. Dean was now curled in on himself, reminding Castiel that Dean was afraid of, well not exactly heights, but flying.  That would only be making this situation worse.

“Dean,” he said much more softly, “I’m not going to drop you, I promise.  But I think Gabriel is at fault here, and he needs to fix it.”

Dean looked up at him and shook his head.  He probably still couldn’t understand what Castiel was saying.

For the briefest moment, Castiel considered setting the crystal back down and projecting himself into it.  Fitting into a human-sized vessel was not materially different than fitting into a smaller form. The problem, however, was that since he did not know what sort of spell Gabriel had used to do this, he could not be sure he would be able to get back _out_.

Leaving Dean in the crystal on his bed seemed logical, but Castiel was reluctant to do so anyway.  What else might happen when he was out of Castiel’s sight and reach? Finally, he came to a decision.

“Dean,” he all but whispered, “I’m going to put you in my pocket so that you will not feel like you are flying.  If that is unacceptable, I trust you will pray to me so that I know.”

There was no further reaction from Dean, and so Castiel carefully lowered the crystal into the pocket of his coat.

“Cas!  No, please!  This is worse!  Take me out!” Dean prayed frantically.

Just as carefully, Castiel drew the crystal back out of his pocket and held it up to his face again.

“Thank you,” he said softly.  “I wish you could understand me, but at least you are able to communicate.”

With that, he turned and strode out to the library, where he had left Gabriel moments ago.  The library that was, not at all surprisingly, completely empty save for a candy wrapper on the table where they had been working.  That and a note

 

> If you’re going to keep being stubborn about this, then you can try a practice run.    
>    
>  The crystal will keep Dean safe. He won’t need to eat or deal with other bodily functions.  He’ll have a ready supply of air. He also won’t age, but considering it’ll only last a week, that won’t be noticeable.  
>    
>   Nothing short of, well, me, is going to break it open, so don’t even try.  
>    
>  See ya, bro!

“Damn it, Gabriel!”  Castiel crumpled the note in his fist.

“What is it?” Dean prayed.  “Wait, I’m not gonna understand you, am I?”

Castiel shook his head.  He would have to find a way to rectify that.  They could not keep up this one-way communication for a week.

“Okay, so let’s try it a different way.”  Dean stood and began to pace the two steps he was able to take in the confined space.  “First, did Gabe do this?”

Castiel nodded.

“Of course, he did.”

Castiel had never noticed such texture to prayers before Dean.  Perhaps that was because most humans were directing them to an unknown and unseen entity, and primarily when they were in dire trouble of some kind.  Desperation often tinged those prayers. Only Dean seemed to allow exasperation to flow freely. Castiel had initially been affronted by this, but over the years he had come to appreciate the bare honesty of it.

“So, did I piss him off somehow?”

Castiel shook his head and pointed to himself.

“You pissed him off and he decided to do this crap to me?  Awesome.” Dean threw up his hands. “What, am I his teaching aid for everybody else?  Never mind. Not a yes or no question. Huh.”

Dean paced the circumference of his space twice more, then looked back up.  “Cas, am I going to run out of air?”

Castiel shook his head.

“Food?  Water? Uh, am I gonna have someplace to take a leak?”

Castiel shook his head to each question.

“What’s going on, Cas?” Sam asked from behind him.  “I heard you yelling at Gabriel. What did he… Jesus Christ!”

“Please don’t yell,” Castiel said softly as Dean covered his ears and glared at his brother.

“What happened?” Sam asked.  “No, wait, let me guess. Gabriel happened?”

Castiel picked up the crumpled note from the table and handed it to Sam as he explained, “I have not figured out how to communicate something this complex to him.  Dean is able to hear our voices but does not seem to be able to make out words. He has been praying to me with yes or no questions for the last minute or two, but that is extremely limiting.”

“You don’t say,” Sam huffed.  “What does he mean about you being stubborn?”

Castiel closed his eyes and collected his thoughts, deciding how to filter this.  “Gabriel believes that I am excessively attached to you and your brother.”

“So this is about that weird conversation in the car?” Sam asked.   He paused as Cas nodded, then went on. “He didn’t shrink _me_ down, so… I’m guessing Dean’s your Jane Foster in this scenario.”

“I suppose that is one way to put it,” Castiel grumbled.  “Perhaps we should have chosen to ‘Netflix and chill’ rather than go out to the movies.”

 

“That’s not what… You know what, never mind,” Sam said.

“Hey, Cas!  What are you guys talking about?  Argh!” Dean threw himself onto what Castiel decided to think of as the floor of his enclosure.

“Guessing we should be glad he didn’t decide to actually preserve him in amber,” Sam muttered.  “Fucking Tuesdays.”

“It’s Saturday, Sam,” Cas corrected, narrowing his eyes at him.  Had Sam been affected in some way as well after all?

“Never mind.”  Sam waved that away.  “So we have a week of this?  How the hell are we supposed to communicate? And why is Dean naked?”

“I presume that is simply the way Gabriel thinks,” Castiel said.  “If he crafted the spell to contain just Dean, and not specifically Dean’s clothing, then it would only contain Dean.”

“What an ass,” Sam said.  “And I’d apologize for calling your brother an ass, but considering what he did to my brother, I don’t think so.”

“Believe me, I can think of many worse things to call him,” Castiel agreed.  “However, none of that is particularly helpful at the moment.”

“No, it isn’t.  So we need to find a way to communicate.  Have you tried just holding up the note?”

They tried setting the crystal in the center of the table and holding the note at various distances, following Dean’s running commentary of prayers.

“I can’t see it at all from that far.  Now I can tell there’s writing on it, but can’t see what it says.  This thing distorts the crap out of everything. Ugh, now I can see letters but it’s like trying to make out a crop circle from the middle of a field.”

“I have an idea,” Sam said.  He held up a finger towards Dean and left the library.

“What is he doing?” Dean prayed.

Cas shrugged.

 

~*~

Sam was back in a minute with his laptop.  He set it on the table a little more roughly than Dean thought was strictly necessary, considering it felt like a minor earthquake to him.

If anyone could come up with a solution to this communication thing, though, it was Sam.  Dean just wished he could see what gigantor was typing, even though it would probably look about as hard to read as that note had.  Oh, yeah. The note was right next to him. So, that.

Sam turned the computer around tent-style so that he could slide it right up to Dean’s prison without the keyboard in the way.  It was hella bright, though, and Dean had to shield his eyes.

“Shit, Sammy, turn it down, already!” he muttered.

After a few seconds, it dimmed a bit, and he moved his arm to look.  There, on the giant screen in front of him, was a relatively normal-sized road sign of a message with Gabriel’s note transcribed.

“What the… Cas, what is it you’re being stubborn about?” he prayed.  “’Cause if this is like the tv show thing, maybe stopping that will end the stupid ‘lesson’!”

The laptop turned away and Dean saw Cas go to stand behind Sam, both their voices like thunder in the distance while Sam typed and did whatever he did to shrink it down to size.  He then flipped the computer around, screen still dimmed this time.

Gabriel thinks Cas needs to do better at distancing himself from us mere mortals.

“What?  Then why am I the only one stuck naked in a jar?” Dean demanded.  He didn’t even bother praying that to Cas. Even if he couldn’t hear it, he’d understand, Dean was sure.

The next time the computer turned back to him, all Dean could do was glare at the both of them.  This was complete bullshit! Why did Gabe always have to pick on him? Next time, Dean really would gank the son of a bitch.  Some of that must have leaked through, because what Dean could make out of Cas’ expression looked pained. Meanwhile, Sam was giving one of his epic bitchfaces.  Dean flipped them both off before looking back at the screen.

Pretty sure it’s your “profound bond” with Thor over here, dude.

Son of a bitch.

 


	3. Chapter 3

Sam’s solution to their communication dilemma was awkward and time-consuming, but effective.  Castiel was grateful to him for having figured at least something out and then teaching Castiel how to utilize the relevant programs on the computer.  Once he had the hang of it, Castiel was actually much faster at it than Sam was.

“Dude, could you maybe slow down a little,” Sam said.  “It’s just that, at some point, I think you’re going to burn out the keyboard.”

“Fine.”  Castiel had to reluctantly agree that the friction created by typing at the speeds of which he was capable would probably be excessive for the device.  But he was determined to reassure Dean that he would not have to exist in this state for a week. That might be a blink of an eye to an angel, but he knew full well that Dean would experience it as an eternity.  He finished off his missive, using the smallest font the computer would permit, and folded the keyboard under, turning the screen to face Dean.

“Cas, I appreciate the sentiment,” Dean prayed, “but how exactly are you going to get him to undo this?  It took trapping him in holy oil the last time, and I don’t think he’s going to fall for that again!”

No, Gabriel would not fall for the same trick twice.

Something about the way Sam had phrased that last message added to the uncomfortable feeling that Castiel should know something he did not.  He wondered if this was yet another thing Naomi had done to his mind. If so, it had to be something specific to this situation, as he’d not experienced anything of the sort before.  He pushed his chair back from the table and stood, turning back quickly to dash off a note to let Dean know he would be back shortly.

“Cas?”  Dean’s prayer was frantic.  “What are you doing? Where are you going?  Yeah, I see your note, but… CAS!”

Sam could calm his brother, Castiel trusted.  He had to go deal with his own.

Once outside the bunker, Castiel shifted his awareness to the network of angelic voices that the Winchesters called “angel radio.”  Selecting the specific frequency tuned to Gabriel, he restrained the urge to shout and instead whispered.

“Gabriel, I understand that you will not undo this until you believe I have learned what you intend.  However, in order to do so, there are questions I need to ask you.”

“Ooh, already?” Gabriel’s voice came from behind him.  “Thought it’d take you longer, bro!”

“Gabriel.”  Castiel glared at him.  “Why did you choose now to teach me this particular lesson?”

“Nope!  Wrong question!  Besides, you already know the answer to that.  You just don’t know that you know.”

Castiel seethed.  “What sort of riddle is that supposed to be?  If I do not know that I know, Gabriel, then I do not know!”

“Oh, but I think you do.”  Gabriel narrowed his eyes. “See, ever since that stupid movie, you’ve been trying to figure it out.  But if I do it for you, it ain’t gonna hold.”

“Figure what out?  That you’re an ass?  I’ve known that since you abandoned your family rather than deal with Lucifer!”

Now Gabriel’s eyes darkened.  “Watch it, bro. I’m not the only one who went AWOL, but at least I didn’t slaughter half our surviving siblings.”

Cas recoiled.  He deserved that, certainly, but Gabriel had never thrown it in his face like that before.

“Oh, you’re a tricky one!”  Gabriel grinned. “Got me to hand you a clue without even realizing it.  Well done. You’re on the right track!”

With that and a snap of his fingers, Gabriel was gone again.

“That was a clue?” Cas mused aloud. 

~*~

Dean didn’t know how he was supposed to survive a week like this.  Okay, he supposedly wasn’t going to need to eat or drink or piss or anything but… this was boring as shit.  Especially since Cas had fucked off to who-knew-where and left him with just Sam. Sam could type up messages for him, but now he was the one who needed to keep it to yes or no answers if Dean was going to be able to answer.

That wasn’t remotely what Sam was trying to do.

Ooh, maybe we can just chisel the crystal open and at least get some clothes on you.  Do you think they make Ken dolls that small?

What if I run to Walmart and get you a doll house?

Dude, you’re giving new meaning to the word shrinkage.

Dean was totally putting Nair in Sam’s shampoo again as soon as he got out of here.  Unless he thought of anything better, which he might, considering he had a week to work on it.  He’d rather be working on getting the hell out of here, but there wasn’t much he could really do from in here.  Hell, he wasn’t sure what he could do from out there. This was probably some unholy blend of Trickster magic and Enochian spellwork.  He was pretty sure the Men of Letters didn’t exactly have a book on that.

That first suggestion actually didn’t sound too bad, at least in terms of getting the hell out of here.  Dean didn’t think he could be lucky enough that that would break the whole spell and get him back to size, but not being trapped in a fucking crystal would be a plus.   He’d be willing to bet Gabriel had booby-trapped it somehow, though. Like, it wouldn’t literally explode, but it might start setting off fireworks or some shit. That’s just what he needed:  fireworks in a confined space while naked. No thanks.

He was relieved to see Cas come back over to the table after a small eternity.  He sent off a quick prayer and watched as Cas typed up an answer.

Gabriel believes he has given me a clue, but if so, it is sufficiently obscure that I can’t decipher it.

“What did he say?” Dean prayed.

Something about not being the only angel who abandoned heaven.  I believe he meant to implicate me in that, but I fail to see how that could be a clue.

“It’s probably in the actual wording he used,” Dean prayed.  “Some double meaning buried in there somewhere.”

He alluded to the notion that I somehow both know and do not know what he is talking about.

“Dude, that makes no sense.”  Dean shook his head. “How can you know something if you don’t know it?”

I believe this is a common occurrence among humans.  It is, however, unheard of among angels.

Dean had an uncomfortable thought at that.  “What about, like, when Naomi messed with your head?”

It took a little longer for Cas to reply that time.

Naomi did say that I had various memories removed.  As I have never recovered any of them, I do not believe that would fall under the category of things I know.

That sounded fair enough, Dean had to admit.  It did seem like Naomi had been able to flat out erase whatever she wanted.

She was not always as thorough as she thought. 

“What do you mean?” Dean asked.

I may have been somewhat disingenuous about what broke the control she had over me.  It was not the angel tablet.

“Well, then, what was it?”

Once again, Cas took awhile to reply.  For a couple of minutes, he just sat staring at the computer, leaving Dean to wonder if he was going to answer at all.  Finally, he clicked just a couple of keys and turned the computer around again.

You.

“Uh, Cas, you might not remember it all that clearly, but you’d been beating the crap out of me for awhile there.  If I was your magic charm, don’t you think it would have worked sooner?”

This time Cas typed furiously for longer than he had for any other messages so far.

That is true, and it is something that will always haunt me.  Not, however, to the extent of the training she had conducted to prepare me for that mission.  She created hundreds upon hundreds of imitation Deans so that I could prove to her that, when ordered to kill you, I would obey.  However, when she ordered me to kill you, unlike any of the duplicates, I could not.

Dean read that through twice, shook his head, and read it again.  That was some next-level brainwashing shit. He shouldn’t have expected any less from the head angel in charge of brainwashing, but he’d never really given it any thought.  If he had, he’d have assumed it was all that screws-to-the-brain shit Crowley had done to Samandriel and Sam (well, Gadreel).

“I have no idea what to say to that,” Dean admitted.  “How does knowing that help?”

Apparently it doesn’t.

Awesome.  There were questions he wanted to ask but didn’t dare.  Did she have him kill practice Sams too? Would she have had him kill practice Claires if she’d tried that shit now?  No way to know that one. But if she’d only had him practice killing Dean, he really didn’t know what to do with that.

_ “I know you hope Castiel will return to you.  I only wish he felt the same,” she’d said. _

Dean had known she was lying.

 


	4. Chapter 4

If there was one thing to be looked upon as a blessing in this mess, it was that Gabriel had left Dean with the ability to sleep.  He was dangerously close to losing his mind in his little prison as it was. He might not need to eat or drink or bathe, but the inability to do even those simple human tasks was clearly taking its toll.  He was curled up on the “floor” of the crystal now, sleeping quietly. 

Castiel had suggested ensuring he would have only pleasant dreams, but Dean had been surprisingly vehement about not even trying that.  It was unclear whether that was borne of concern that Castiel would find himself trapped in the crystal in some way as well or whether he’d had enough of angels interfering with his person.  He’d yelled both in some of the most scathingly irreverent prayers even he had ever uttered. Castiel suspected even Dean wasn’t sure which concern was primary.

Sam had taken over the laptop once communication with Dean was no longer required.  Castiel thought it unlikely he would find anything of use on the internet, but that was far more Sam’s area of expertise.  Castiel was focusing on the few Men of Letters tomes that seemed even remotely promising. So far even that was an overstatement of their utility, however, and so he often found himself simply gazing at Dean in his crystalline prison.

It had been one full day so far.  If Gabriel held true to his word, that meant there were six days remaining, regardless of any actions they might take in the meantime.  Castiel rather thought Gabriel had some other course of action in mind for him to take, but searching for a way to break the spell was the only approach that suggested itself.  Surely Gabriel knew the Winchesters well enough to know that this was the only option they would pursue?

A pounding at the bunker door roused Castiel from his musings.  It also roused Dean, who was glaring at Castiel as if he held him responsible, hands firmly clamped over his ears once again.  If they could not reverse the entire spell, perhaps it would be enough to somehow muffle the impact of the larger world’s noise on him.

Castiel held up a finger to Dean before turning to race out of the library and up the stairs to find out who was there, Sam on his heels.  Unfortunately, the warding on the bunker made it impossible for Castiel to see through its walls or door. As beneficial as it was to be protected from aggressive angels seeing in, it was frustrating at times like this to be unable to see out.

“Stop that noise,” he called out, letting his sword slide into his hand, “and state your intentions!”

“Castiel?” a young woman’s voice echoed through his grace.  “Please, let me in.”

Shocked (but not entirely trusting even the familiar-sounding prayer-voice), Castiel shot Sam a look.  Sam had his gun drawn, which was a wise precaution even if unlikely to be of use against most potential intruders.  With what he hoped was a reassuring nod, Castiel turned back to the door and opened it.

Claire spilled in, the door having evidently been supporting her.   She was covered in blood and bruises. There was no sign of demonic influence, nor any angelic other than his own, so he scooped her up into his arms and stepped back so that Sam could close and re-lock the door.

Placing two fingers against her forehead, Castiel healed her wounds, though the stains of blood remained.  With a sigh of what sounded like relief, she slipped into unconsciousness. He carried her down the stairs and, after a moment’s thought, brought her into his room.  He had no need of the bed, after all, but it was clean and made, and she could rest there.

“What the hell happened?” Sam asked.

“I don’t know,” Castiel admitted.  “There was no clear pattern to her injuries to tell me what sort of monster inflicted them.”

“Why’d you put her to sleep?”

“I didn’t.  I believe that once the combination of pain and desperation to find safety were removed, she finally allowed herself to rest.”  He examined her again and found no sign of magical interference. “I am inclined to allow her to do so for now, as much as I would like answers as to what has happened to her.”

“And whether she was followed,” Sam said.  “I’ll make sure there’s nothing out there. And move whatever car she drove into the garage so it’s not sitting out there like a giant beacon.”

“I’ll come with you,” Castiel said, stepping back into the hall and closing the door to his room behind him.

“No.  You stay here and watch over her and Dean.”

“It would make far more sense for me to be the one to go outside,” Castiel protested.

“Look, if something gets past me, then you need to be the one in here to protect them,” Sam said.  “If something gets past _you_? What am I going to do to stop it?”

“Your scenario suggests that this enemy is capable of getting past us both in either case,” Castiel pointed out.

“Just… go with me on this,” Sam said. 

Castiel knew that look on his face.  Nothing would dissuade Sam from this course of action.

“Fine. Be careful.” 

Sam nodded.

Castiel returned to the library, where Dean was pacing his tiny prison.  Once he spotted Castiel, he unleashed a flood of nearly incoherent prayers.  Still unsure what was going on and what degree of danger any of them were in, Castiel held up a hand to indicate silence, then grabbed the crystal and tucked it into the pocket of his suit pants.  That resulted in another slew of prayers that Castiel steadfastly ignored. No one would be able to reach Dean without coming within smiting distance, and unlike the trench coat or even his suit jacket, there was little risk of Castiel being separated from him.  He understood why Dean found this intolerable, as he was making himself extremely clear on the subject, but Castiel also trusted that Dean would forgive him once he could be brought up to speed.

Adopting a neutral guarding stance, Castiel placed himself midway between the bunker door and the entrance from the garage.  If anyone or anything other than Sam entered from either direction, he would be ready. Gabriel’s ridiculous prank had been infuriating enough previously.  Now it meant they were a man down in dealing with whatever threat might be approaching. Castiel was not going to let any further harm come to his family.

~*~

Would it kill the rest of them to let him know what the fuck was going on?  All Dean knew was that some ridiculous noise had woken him up, Cas had fucking _shushed_ him before running off with Sam on his heels.  Then, when Cas showed back up, he’d shoved him in his fucking pocket despite Dean tearing him a new one for it.

All he could do now was fume in the dark.   _Something_ was happening.  Something that had Cas wanting to hide him.  That meant that Dean should really be out there arming up, but it wasn’t like he could do much in his current situation, even if he weren’t stuck in Cas’ pants.

He was not going to think about the fact he was in Cas’ pants.  That was just a whole other level of wrong. 

It made sense, tactically, he supposed.  Under all Cas’ layers, nobody would see that he had some damn thing jammed in his pants pocket.  And unlike the trench coat pockets, it’d be hella hard to just randomly fall out.

He was absolutely not blushing because he’d just thought the word “hard” in the context of being in Cas’ pants.  It was just really warm in here, which was the part that didn’t really figure into Cas’ strategy. 

Of course being this close to Cas’ body would be warmer than sitting out on a library table.  Cas seemed to run hot in general. Probably a side effect of cramming all that angelic grace into a human-sized vessel.

Not one thing about this line of thought was helping matters.  Not even a little bit.

What the hell was going on out there?  It didn’t seem like they were moving, so the good news was apparently Cas wasn’t in the middle of some battle royale.  What would happen if he did end up fighting? What if he got thrown around? That usually happened to all of them, and Dean had lost track of the phones they’d had to replace on account of getting smashed in their pockets.  So would this crystal smash? And if it did, would he be able to get out? Or would he end up stabbed to death by some giant shard of it?

He’d stopped praying all of this to Cas, anyway.  As much as he wanted answers, he clearly wasn’t going to get them.  Besides, if something bad was going down, Cas needed to be able to concentrate.  Not that he’d ever shown any sign of being able to be distracted when he was in battle mode.  That single-minded focus he had was one of the things Dean really… admired. That was the word. 

Yeah.  He’d go with that.  Because anything else would just be all kinds of weird, and Dean was kind of maxed out on weird at the moment.

If something bad enough had showed up to put Cas on red alert in the bunker, though, maybe that would get Gabriel to reverse this shit.  Also, they were a man down with Dean playing Stuart Little like this, so they needed more hands on deck. Unless Gabriel was the problem.  He’d been a pretty solid ally since he’d showed back up though. And if he was the current problem, it wasn’t like he didn’t know Dean’s situation. 

That decided, Dean prayed to the son of a bitch.

“Yo, Gabriel, I don’t know where you’ve fucked off to, and I don’t care.  Some kind of shit is going down in the bunker, and thanks to you, Cas and Sam are on their own.  I should be out there helping them, and you’ve got me stuck in this stupid fucking rock! So get your feathery ass back here and help them, or so help me Chuck, when I get out of here, I really will gank your ass!”

Dean held his breath and waited.

Nothing.

“Dick,” Dean muttered.  Son of a bitch was probably sunning himself on the Riviera while beautiful women in bikinis fed him peeled grapes.  Well, no. He’d just go right for the Cadbury eggs, probably. Only fruit he ever ate was probably chocolate-covered strawberries, if that.

All of a sudden, Dean’s world started moving again.  It was like the worst earthquake he could imagine. Was Cas running?  Fighting? The tremors got worse, and then there was light. Lots of light.  Way the fuck too much light.

Dean covered his eyes and trembled.  Was this Cas’ grace? Had he been hurt?  Worse? Dean should be out there helping him, not trapped in his goddamned pocket, useless.  He wanted to scream, wanted to cry, but it wasn’t like any of that would help either.

The tremors stopped, but the light didn’t.  Dean peeked through his fingers and saw that it was just normal light, no longer blinding.  And Cas was there, looking at him with that curious head-tilt of his.

Dean scrubbed his hands over his face, ignoring that they were kind of damp after all.  Looking around, he saw that he was back on the library table with both Cas and Sam staring at him. 

“What the actual fuck?” he prayed.  “What happened?”

Sam slid into the chair by his laptop and started typing.  Cas said something to him that Sam clearly didn’t like. They both got louder, and Dean had to slam his hands over his ears to block them out.

“Keep it simple!” he prayed.  “Were we under attack? What?”

Sam’s shoulders heaved as Cas probably relayed that to him, and he got back to typing, Cas now over his shoulder.  They were arguing again, but at least they were keeping it quieter this time.

What was it they didn’t want to tell him?  Or couldn’t agree how to tell him?

Another loud noise tried to shatter Dean’s eardrums, this one much higher-pitched than anything he’d heard so far.  Both Sam and Cas’ heads snapped up and stared at something behind Dean, so he turned to see.

There, goggling at him with her mouth hanging open, was Claire.  Her hair was a rats’ nest and her clothes were splattered with blood, but it must be someone else’s because she didn’t look hurt.  As he watched, her expression changed from shock to amusement, and her voice rang out again.

That was when Dean remembered he was freaking naked.

Son of a bitch.

  
  



	5. Chapter 5

Castiel wished he hadn’t bothered to argue with Sam over how much to explain of their situation. Their perceived situation. Sam had found no trace of intruders when he’d left the bunker, at least not until Gabriel had showed up. Clearly Dean had prayed to him, specifically, if what Sam relayed of their conversation was accurate. And so Castiel had felt that it was important to first give Dean the full context of what he and Sam had thought was happening versus what they knew so far.

Sam had disagreed, wanting to focus on the fact it had “just” been Claire, and to respond to Dean’s follow-up questions after that. He had not, for some reason, wanted to include Gabriel’s appearance at all, which Castiel felt was unfair. He was furious with his brother, that was true, but he had responded to Dean’s call, and that was a point in his favor that he felt Dean should be aware of.

It would have been better, Castiel decided, to follow Sam’s instincts, because then Claire might not be standing there laughing at Dean’s nakedness.

Castiel whipped off his tie and draped it around the base of the crystal, tying it securely to give Dean something of his dignity back. He still considered the human nudity taboo to be a bizarre holdover from the original humans’ fall, but regardless of how strange he found it, he was not about to allow Dean to be the object of ridicule. He was already clearly upset, and understandably so. 

“Claire,” Sam said, “could you not?”

“Why?” she demanded. “This one of those, ‘nobody can mess with my brother but me’ things?”

“No! Well, kind of. But he’s kind of been through a lot already,” Sam replied. “He doesn’t need you laughing at him too.”

“Fine,” she huffed. “But I reserve the right to tease him, at least a little.”

“Claire,” Castiel said, “stop.”

She just smirked.

Sam finished typing and turned the laptop so Dean could read.

“What, he can’t hear us?” Claire asked.

“He can hear our voices,” Castiel explained. “Unfortunately, due either to the size differential or distortions caused by the crystal, he cannot understand what we are saying and frequently finds our voices painful.”

“So you’re mega-texting him in five-point type,” she observed. “How does he communicate with you?”

“Prayer,” Castiel said. “I am the only one who can hear him. Well, unless he chooses to pray to another angel, in which case only that angel can hear him.”

“Why would he pray to another angel?”

Castiel explained the situation briefly, shooting her warning looks every time it seemed she was going to laugh again.

“Wait, you thought I led some monsters right to your door? Thanks, guys. I’m not a moron, you know,” she said.

“You were pretty beat-up,” Sam said. “Nobody would blame you if you’d overlooked something getting here and got followed.”

“Yeah, nobody but me,” she snorted. “Trust me, there were no vamps left _to_ follow me.”

“You found a nest of vamps near here?” Sam asked. “Where?”

“You found a nest of vampires near here and went after them on your own?” Castiel asked, glaring at Sam.

“Well, I didn’t know it was a nest at first,” Claire admitted. “But they’re gone now, so no worries. I even kept the fire contained.”

“The fire,” Castiel said carefully. “You burned down a nest of vampires.”

Sam typed something into the computer.

“Well, duh.” Claire rolled her eyes. “How else is one person going to take out a whole nest?”

“And your injuries… ?” Castiel asked.

“From before I found out just how many of them there were,” Claire admitted.

“You do realize that even Sam and Dean would not take on a nest of vampires without at least each other as backup,” Castiel said. He was troubled by Claire’s recklessness. What was it that she thought she needed to prove?

“Actually,” Sam said, “there was that one time Dean took out a nest on his own. But that was when he had the Mark, so that doesn’t really count.”

Claire opened her mouth.

“You do recall the consequences of Dean taking the Mark of Cain, do you not?” Castiel asked her. “I believe you referred to him repeatedly as a ‘monster.’”

She snapped her mouth shut.

“In any case,” Castiel continued, “I am relieved that you did seek out assistance for your injuries and that I was able to heal you.”

He was at a loss what else to say to her. As much as he would enjoy spending time with Claire, his most pressing concern at the moment remained Dean. She seemed to sense that.

“So what happened to him?” she asked. “Piss off a witch?”

“It is a bit more complicated than that,” Castiel said. He found himself oddly reluctant to explain the full extent of the problem to her.

Of course, given that the note Gabriel had left was sitting out on the table, there wasn’t much left for him to explain once she spotted it and picked it up. There was no point attempting to retrieve it, as she had seen enough in just the first few words.

“What’re you being stubborn about?” she asked. “And why does shrinking him down and stuffing him naked in a freaking crystal have anything to do with it?”

“Gabe has a weird sense of humor,” Sam said. “Plus he said something last night about Thor having to preserve Jane in amber because she’s mortal.”

“Oh. So your big brother doesn’t approve of your crush,” she said. “Siblings are a pain in the ass.”

“You do not have any siblings,” Castiel said.

“Well, I didn’t,” she agreed. “Alex is as annoying as one.”

Castiel decided not to pursue that further. 

“Also, you totally didn’t contradict me,” she added.

“That actually sounds about right,” Sam said.

“What?” Castiel hadn’t expected Sam to agree with her.

“Well, come on,” he said. “You two have always had that ‘profound bond’ thing going on. Anyone can see it from miles away.”

“Yeah, it’s kind of obvious,” Claire said. 

“And this does not bother you?” Castiel asked.

“It’s weird as shit,” Claire replied. “But, you’re not my Dad, and he’s not in there, so… it’s like you’re his angelic twin or something.”

Castiel supposed that was a very human way to rationalize the situation. 

“So, if we’ve got the obvious out of the way,” she continued, “have you tried the obvious solution?”

“Which would be what?” Castiel asked.

“True love’s kiss, duh.” She rolled her eyes again.

“This isn’t Sleeping Beauty,” Sam said. “Plus there’s the slight problem of the crystal in the way. I think you’re on the right track, but that’s not what’s going to work.”

“You telling me you can’t get in there?” Claire asked, an eyebrow raised in disbelief.

“If I did,” Castiel replied, “there is no guarantee that either of us would be able to get out.”

“Well, if you don’t, then you have a guarantee that he’s stuck in there for how many more days?” Claire waved the note in front of her.

“I suppose you have a point,” Castiel admitted.

“Hey,” Dean prayed, “what the hell are you talking about? I still don’t know what’s going on! Why’s Claire here? What the fuck happened?”

Castiel ran his hands through his hair.

“Sam,” he said, “have you managed to condense all this into a message for Dean?”

“Just about,” Sam said. “Just… editing it a bit.”

Claire walked over to stand behind Sam and read over his shoulder. She gave a snort of laughter.

“What is so funny now?” Castiel asked.

“You’re making this way too complicated. You’re all idiots,” she said, shaking her head.

“Idjits,” Sam muttered under his breath.

Castiel gave a sad smile and nodded. “Idjits.”

~*~

Dean couldn’t help it. By the time he got halfway through Sam’s message, he was rolling on the floor of his little prison laughing. All that drama, and it had just been Claire? 

Not that he was happy to hear she’d been hunting vamps on her own, but it was obvious there was no stopping her from something she’d set her mind to. He wasn’t too thrilled that she’d been hurt bad enough to basically pass out as soon as she got here, either. But if she was their big bad of the day, then that just kind of fit the general weirdness of it all.

Of course, having a chick point and laugh at him while he was naked was a new experience he could’ve done without. Then again, that was true of everything for the past couple of days. He couldn’t exactly blame her. He must look ridiculous. He was grateful for the relative privacy Cas’ tie gave him though. He’d gotten used to Cas and Sam seeing him like this, but yeah, strutting around naked in front of Claire was just creepy.

Wiping the tears of laughter off his face, Dean finally read the last couple of sentences. His eyes bugged out as he reached the end.

“Oh hell no, Cas!” he prayed. “We know this is going to wear off. We don’t know what happens to you if you try to get in here. Besides, what are you going to do, just come in here as pure light and burn my eyes out? Because, seriously, thanks but no thanks.”

It was Claire who grabbed the laptop this time and dashed off something quickly before turning it back around. Dean read it and glared at her.

“Yes, I’ve heard of a summoning spell, you little shit!” he said. “Cas, you can totally tell her I said that. Anyway, you might not have noticed, but I don’t really have anything in here to work with for doing a summoning or much else.”

This time, Cas grabbed the laptop, typed, and then flipped it around.

“Shit. Okay, Cas, I said, ‘Yes, I’ve heard of a summoning spell, you little shit.’ That’s the part I meant to tell her, but it’s kinda lost its punch now, so maybe don’t.”

Clearly, Cas relayed the message to Claire anyway, because she flipped him off. He rolled his eyes at that, though it gave him an idea. Not a useful idea, because he’d only ever picked up a few words from Eileen, but it would work so much better if they could just talk to him using sign language. 

So, yeah, not a useful idea. Not as bad an idea as Cas ending up in here with him, though. It might not be logical or whatever, but having Cas in here with him would definitely be weirder than having him out there. The size difference made up for the nakedness somehow.

Huh. He wondered if this was about the difference in size between Dean’s normal height and Cas’ true form. Probably. 

Not the point. He hadn’t been lying when he pointed out that if Cas left his vessel out there to come into the crystal with Dean, then Dean would probably end up blind or worse. Might be worth the risk if he was going to asphyxiate or something, but he wasn’t. He might feel like he was going to die of boredom, but he knew he really wouldn’t. Not an emergency.

“If we’re going to short-circuit this at all,” Dean prayed, “I think it’s gonna be by figuring out what Gabe’s game is. Can we maybe get back on that?”

Cas nodded and said something to Sam.

“What were Gabe’s exact words when he said he’d given you a clue?” Dean asked. “Gotta be in there somewhere.”

Cas took the laptop back, typed quickly, and turned the screen back to Dean.

He said, “I’m not the only one who went AWOL, but at least I didn’t slaughter half our surviving siblings.”

“That was an asshole thing to say,” Dean muttered. “Wait, is he talking about when you went rogue with us or something else?”

Cas tilted his head to one side, considering. After a moment, he spread his hands and shrugged his shoulders. Then he turned the laptop around again.

When I asked why he chose to teach me this lesson now, Gabriel said that I know the reason already, but that I do not know that I know it.

“So, what, more shit Naomi erased on you?”

Another shrug. Obviously, Cas wouldn’t know if that was the case, even if she wasn’t as thorough as she thought, like he’d said.

“Think about it like a case,” Dean said. “Right.”

He could feel the pieces of the puzzle trying to line up in his head. Gabe had gotten weird after the movie last night. Was something in it the real clue? Sam seemed to think it was more about their conversation, to go by his comment yesterday, basically calling Dean Cas’ Jane. 

“Yeah, ok,” he said. “Me Jane, you Tarzan? Or, wait…”

Something clicked into place, even though it didn’t seem possible. Then again, what wasn’t possible in their lives?

“Cas,” he prayed warily, “what do you remember about when Gabe bailed?”

Cas squinted at him, then his eyes went wide. He didn’t even bother to type his answer into the laptop, just used his hands to form a great big zero.

Dean thought back to their first meeting, lights exploding as Cas passed them. Sure, any angel could do that if they wanted to, but Dean had the impression it wasn’t something Cas was doing on purpose. In retrospect, he supposed it had to do with being unused to being in a vessel, but what if it was something else.

“Cas, I know I asked you something like this before, but maybe I just wasn’t specific enough,” Dean prayed. “I know you probably don’t really know the answer, but lemme try again. Are you Thor?”


	6. Chapter 6

“That’s not possible,” Castiel said as Dean’s prayer rang through his mind. That odd sensation he’d had during that conversation the night of the movie was back, though. It truly was like something trying to scratch at a barrier in his mind. If this was more of Naomi’s work, perhaps that was true, though none of the other memories had ever returned to him.

“What’s not possible?” Sam asked.

“That would be blasphemy,” Castiel said, still trying to process Dean’s question. It wasn’t as though Castiel had never attempted to be God, though. He was pretty sure that had been the only time he’d swallowed a bunch of souls though. 

Of course, Gabriel had not required an infusion of souls to become Loki, but he was an archangel. Surely a mere seraph could not have done something similar. If nothing else, the other Gods would have noticed. Wouldn’t they? Why was he even entertaining this absurd notion?

Why, though, had he been named the “angel of Thursday”? It had not been part of his original designation. Why could he not remember when it had been added? Surely it was just some odd human association. 

“Cas?” Sam asked. “You okay?”

“Yeah, you look like you’re gonna pass out or something,” Claire said. “Shouldn’t that be kind of impossible?”

“What do you mean blasphemy?” Sam continued. “Is Chuck involved in this somehow?”

“No,” Castiel replied. “Of this much, I am sure.”

Was it possible that he had been sufficiently fed up with their Father’s absence that he had followed in Gabriel’s footsteps? No, more than that. Had he outright followed him to Asgard?

As absurd as the idea seemed, a part of Castiel was certain it was true.

How could he confirm this? If he was wrong, Gabriel would mock him for the remainder of all time. But if he was right, perhaps he would set Dean free.

Except that wasn’t the real point to this, was it? It was Gabriel’s certainty that Castiel’s feelings for Dean were doomed to end in grief. He was right, of course, but Castiel didn’t care. Perhaps by the time Dean’s soul went to its final rest, Castiel would be able to visit him after all. Either he might no longer be persona non grata in heaven, or he would find a way to sneak past the gates. True, it would still be painful, but Castiel had long resigned himself to the fact that his feelings for Dean were vastly different than Dean’s feelings for him.

So, no. Castiel was not about to learn the lesson Gabe wanted him to, because he could not and would not change the way he felt for Dean. If he had, in fact, fled heaven with Gabriel and lived for a time as Thor, that was irrelevant to anything but the timing of this bizarre “lesson” his brother was determined to teach him. 

He turned and strode out of the library, determined to have this out with his brother, sparks crackling along his fingertips.

~*~

Dean didn’t know what to think as he watched Cas’ face contort through various stages of wrestling with the idea Dean had just planted in his brain. Should he have kept his mouth shut? Was there some very good reason for Cas not to consider this possibility, even if it was true? Maybe _especially_ if it was true?

When he stalked out of the library freakin’ lighting sizzling around his hands, Dean damn near panicked.

“Cas? Cas!” he prayed. “Come back, Cas! It was a crazy idea! Forget I said anything! Just come back!”

A tremor ran through the crystal, and Dean turned in horror to see what fresh hell this was. As it turned out, it was just Sam tapping a finger against it. Probably thought he was being gentle, too.

“What?!” Dean yelled, not caring that he couldn’t be heard. He trusted Sam to figure it out.

What the hell did you say to him?

Yeah, now would be a really good time to remember, like, anything Eileen had taught him, assuming Sam would even be able to see what the fuck Dean was doing with his hands. He settled for the same universal sign Claire had used earlier. Sam definitely understood that one, going by the bitchface looming over him.

“Go after him, you idiot! It’s not like I can do it!” Dean pointed to where Cas had just gone.

Sam and Claire both pointed to themselves, questions written on both their features.

“Either! Both! I don’t care!” Dean stomped his foot, ignoring the fact that neither of them could see that. “Just go after him before he does something stupid!”

The two of them argued for a minute, making Dean have to slap his hands back over his ears. He continued to glare at them both while they wasted time, probably trying to figure out who was going to go and who was going to stay. Obviously Sam won, because Claire sank into the chair and plopped her chin into her hands, shooting daggers out of her eyes at Sam’s back as he left.

Dean sat down, too, settling in to wait. What he didn’t expect was for the computer screen to turn back around to him with a new message.

Any chance the two of you are going to pull your heads out of your asses and put the rest of us out of our misery?

“What? No, I am not having this conversation with you, of all people!” Granted, at least Jimmy wasn’t walking around in Cas’ vessel anymore, but still, talking to Jimmy’s daughter about… about anything like what she was implying was just more weird than Dean was prepared to deal with.

Then no matter what the hell you just said to him, you’re probably stuck in there for the whole week, moron.

Yeah, he got that. Thing was, he was pretty sure what she was angling for was the opposite of what Gabriel wanted, the winged dick.


	7. Chapter 7

“Gabriel!” Castiel shouted, relishing the way his voice reverberated through the trees surrounding the bunker.

“Dude, you don’t have to shout,” Gabriel said as he appeared sitting on one of the nearby branches. His ankles were crossed and swinging as though he’d been there for hours. 

Perhaps he had.

Words were insufficient, Castiel decided. English, Enochian, whatever. Instead, Castiel threw a hand out before him and hurled a bolt of lightning at his ridiculous brother, knocking him from his perch.

Gabriel picked himself up and brushed away bits of leaves and other detritus, a completely unapologetic grin splitting his face. 

“Bro! You remembered!”

“So it’s true,” Castiel said. “How?”

“Not everything, then.” Gabriel’s grin faltered. “It’s like I told you: you need to remember this shit on your own. Otherwise, it’ll fall back behind the curtain faster than you can say ‘freckles.’”

Castiel seethed. “What does any of this have to do with what you have done to Dean?”

“Well, now, that I thought was obvious.” Gabriel pulled a lollipop out of his pocket, tore off the wrapper, and popped it into his mouth. “This much I can say: you’ve been down this road before, and it ain’t pretty.”

“So what?” Castiel demanded. “Do you think I have not considered the problem of falling in love with a mortal? Do you think I have not agonized over what it will mean when he finally takes his rest in heaven and I cannot so much as visit him?”

“Have you though?” Gabriel asked. “Really?”

“None of that is anything compared to the pain of loving someone who can never return those feelings,” Castiel spat. “Even still, I would not turn from him for anything. Do you know how hard Naomi tried to break our bond?”

“Naomi? What does she have to do with anything?” Gabriel asked.

“She made me kill Dean, or facsimiles of him, hundreds of times,” Castiel said. “When she ordered me to kill the real Dean, however, her control over me was broken.”

Gabriel’s eyes widened, and he whistled. 

“I say this not to impress you,” Castiel continued, “but only to impress upon you the futility of the task you have set for yourself. So while I appreciate your concern for me, it is pointless.”

“No, yeah, I got that,” Gabriel said. He nodded at something over Castiel’s shoulder. “So did he.”

Castiel whipped around to see Sam standing behind them, his mouth hanging open, then snapping shut.

“I didn’t come out here to eavesdrop,” Sam said, hands raised. 

“Then what, precisely, did you hope to accomplish?” Castiel asked. “And how much did you hear?”

“Dean didn’t want you alone out here,” Sam said. “He’s kind of worried, far as I can tell. And, uh, way more than you probably wanted me to hear. Ever.”

Castiel scrubbed a hand over his face. 

“But, uh,” Sam continued, “that part you said about Dean not feeling the same? You’re wrong.”

“Well, duh,” Gabriel said. “I mean, even I knew that.” 

Castiel looked back and forth between them, wondering whether they had lost their minds or whether he had.

“Seriously,” Sam said, “the staring contests were kind of a giveaway. Plus, you should’ve seen what he was like after Purgatory.”

“Purgatory?” Castiel asked. “That was years ago!”

“Yeah, no shit, Sherlock,” Sam retorted. 

Gabriel furrowed his brow and started pacing back and forth in front of the tree he’d fallen from.

“Cassie,” he asked, “how was it that you were the one who saved Dean-o from the Pit?”

“A battalion of angels stormed the gates of Hell,” Castiel said. “I was merely the first to reach him, though it took nearly forty years.”

“You sure that’s all there was to it?” Gabriel asked. He stopped his pacing and looked at Castiel sharply. “Because I’d have to take a good look at good ol’ Dean’s soul to be sure, but I have a feeling there was something else.”

“You are not messing with my brother’s soul!” Sam said.

“What else could there be?” Castiel retorted, ignoring Sam’s outburst. In spite of himself, however, he relived the memory.

_Demons had fled in terror at the sight of their fellows being torn to shreds by Castiel’s blade, only to be caught by other members of the garrison. When one wave had been dealt with, however, another swarmed at them._

_In the midst of the chaos of battle, Castiel caught sight of his target, a soul still brilliant despite the staining wrought by its time here. With a fierce war cry, he redoubled his efforts, cutting a swath through the demonic horde to reach it._

_When he reached the soul known as Dean Winchester, pain lanced through Castiel’s grace. The soul was already halfway turned from human to demon. Castiel was too late. The first Seal had been broken._

_More than that, however, Castiel felt a deep certainty that he knew this soul already, though he had no idea how such a thing could be possible. He had never heard the name spoken before he had received the orders for his garrison to rescue the soul of the Righteous Man._

_There was no time to ponder this strangeness, however. He grabbed the protesting soul as it tried to shrink away, pulling it close to him as he reversed course to leave this foul realm behind. As soon as he’d passed the Gates of Hell, Castiel cried out for all to hear, “DEAN WINCHESTER IS SAVED!”_

_He’d made short work of reconstructing the decomposed body and replacing the soul within it. He wasn’t sure why he removed all the prior scars the man had acquired, but it seemed only fitting. One mark he left, the one made by his grace as he infused the body with life once again. He should have removed that as well, truly. However, that felt as wrong as removing the other marks had felt right._

_The man’s eyes shot open, and Castiel left before he was tempted to improvise any further upon his mission._

“I knew him,” Castiel said. “I recognized his soul, not just from our orders.”

“Yeah.” Gabriel nodded. “Kinda thought so.”

And then he was gone.

“What the hell was that about?” Sam demanded. He was already turning and running back to the bunker before Castiel could respond.

It was just as well. Castiel didn’t know what he could have answered.

~*~

Dean supposed he’d done stupider things in his life than sit naked watching stupid cat videos on YouTube, but he couldn’t actually think of any at the moment. Still, he had to give credit where it was due: Claire knew how to find the best crap to watch.

Right now, the laptop showed a cat clearly confused by the noises being made by a printer and beating the crap out of the thing. The last one had looked like two cats trying to play pat-a-cake. How did people get their cats to do this crap? Or did they do it on their own and the people just got lucky to have a camera ready at the right time?

Either way, it was freakin’ hilarious, and Dean hadn’t realized how badly he’d needed some totally mindless crap to get him out of his own head for awhile. It’s not like there was anything else for him and Claire to do, after all. He couldn’t bring her up to speed on whatever research Sam had been doing. Dean didn’t even know what-all he’d found or not so far, much less did he have a way to communicate it. So this might be stupid, but it was also just what he needed.

He jumped when she stood up suddenly, a crack of thunder probably made by her chair falling over backwards. Whipping around, he saw Gabe standing in the library doorway. Dean’s eyes widened as he saw the archangel lift a hand and snap his fingers. Reflexively, he tried to shield himself with his arms, for all the good that could do him.

Suddenly, he was cold. The floor under his bare feet felt different, and he decided it was safest to look there first. It was different all right. He didn’t see the weirdly reflective crystal between him and the library table. Instead, he seemed to be standing on the actual library floor. Huh.

Lowering his arm, he peered around to find that he wasn’t looking up at the table. Everything looked… normal. The shelves were the right amount taller than him. Gabe was the right amount shorter than him. It was all back to normal.

Well, almost. He was still naked, except for Cas’ tie which was, for some reason, around his neck.

“Son of a bitch,” he muttered, shifting his stance to try and cover himself just as the bunker door slammed open and two sets of feet clattered down the stairs.

“What the hell?” Claire shouted. “Dude, who are you, and why are you making me look at an old guy’s ass?”

“Hey, not that old!” Dean snapped.

“Nobody told you you had to look,” Gabe said, waggling his eyebrows. “Not that I blame you. Definitely some of Dad’s better work.”

“Dean!” Cas said as he burst into the library. “You’re… here.”

Dean found himself wrapped up in Cas’ trench coat, and he thought for one insane moment that Cas actually looked more naked without it than Dean felt with it.

“So that’s it?” Sam demanded. “Cas learned the lesson you wanted, so it’s all done?”

“I mean, I could put him back,” Gabe said, stroking his chin like he was actually considering it.

“Don’t you dare,” Cas growled, his arm tightening across Dean’s shoulders.

“Oh, don’t get your panties in a twist.” Gabe sniffed. “This is all getting old anyway.”

“So I’m guessing we don’t need to, you know, kill the guy who just randomly popped into your impenetrable bunker?” Claire asked.

“Oh, sweetheart, you’re welcome to try,” Gabe said with a grin. “I mean, these two goons have tried plenty.”

“Claire, Gabriel. Gabriel, Claire,” Sam said. “Just… don’t ask him about Mary or other Bible stuff unless you have no plans for the next few days.”

“I’m wounded,” Gabe said.

“I’ll wound you,” Dean muttered.

“I’m sorry, what was that?” Gabe cupped a hand behind his ear.

“Enough,” Cas snapped. He tugged Dean past Gabe and through the library door.

Once they’d made it to the hallway leading to Dean’s room, Dean shook himself free of Cas’ grip. 

“I can walk, dude,” Dean said to his feet.

“Of course you can,” Cas agreed. 

Once they reached Dean’s room, Cas stopped at the door like some teenage boy dropping off his date. Dean rolled his eyes.

“You’ve already seen everything,” Dean said. “Might as well come in.”

Despite the fact that what he’d said had been true enough, and that he’d been more bothered by Claire seeing him like that than anything, Dean was questioning his life choices as he pulled on a pair of boxer briefs, still relatively shielded by the trench coat. He decided to keep the coat until he at least had jeans on, but there was no way he was managing a shirt without taking it off.

With a sigh, he pulled off the trench coat and handed it to Cas. He half-expected Cas to just look at him no different than if he had all his layers on. The usual Cas cluelessness. Instead, his eyes darkened.

That was… interesting.

“So, Gabe thinks you learned your lesson?” Dean asked, aiming for nonchalance as he reached into his drawer for a shirt.

“I believe he gave up any hope that I would learn such a lesson,” Cas replied.

Dean tried not to breathe a sigh of relief. He had been kind of worried that if Gabe’s goal was to make Cas less attached, and he succeeded, Cas would fuck off to who-knows-where. Not that this meant he’d be staying, but the way he was looking at Dean suggested he might at least want to. That wasn’t nothing.

“Doesn’t sound like him,” Dean said. He pulled a Henley out of his drawer and yanked it over his head. That was when he realized he still had the tie on, which he quickly loosened so he could return to Cas too. “I mean, sure, he gave up on Sammy that one time, but only after torturing him for like three months of Tuesdays.”

Cas’ forehead creased at that. “Sam made a comment about Tuesdays.”

“Yeah, I’ll bet he did,” Dean said. “Dude, your brother has no sense of, like, scale.”

“I believe that is a common problem among archangels,” Cas agreed. 

“So, what did you say to convince him to give up?” Dean asked. “Was it… was it the Thor thing?”

“It appears that may have been part of it,” Cas said. He sat down on the edge of Dean’s bed. “You were right, apparently. I still do not understand how it is possible. Did I replace Odin’s actual son? Or convince him that I was him?”

Dean sat down next to him. Cas, the angel. Or Thor. 

“Does it matter?” Dean asked. 

“Some of the prayers I receive,” Cas said, “they make more sense with this information. If I still have followers who believe me to be Thor, then their prayers are much more logical.”

Dean blinked as he processed that. People out there still believed in the real Thor. Not just Chris Hemsworth. And prayed to him. And he was Cas.

What did that mean when Dean had jacked off to thoughts of Hemsworth’s Thor? Did any of that go through to Cas as prayers? Fuck, he hoped not. The idea had him cringing. Then again, how much worse was that than the possibility of… other self-care sessions coming through as prayers?

“So you’re not going anywhere?” Dean asked, trying desperately to derail that train of thought.

“Did you want me to leave?” Cas asked. His face was unreadable.

“What? No! Cas, I don’t ever want you to leave.”

“You have, on at least one occasion, told me that I could not remain here,” Cas pointed out.

Dean winced. “Yeah, well, I didn’t actually want you to leave that time either.”

Cas just nodded at that. They’d had that conversation before. Sort of.

“Are you hungry?” Cas asked after a minute.

“Probably should be,” Dean said. “Been a couple of days. Not in a rush though.”

“Apparently Gabriel’s stasis spell has not completely worn off then,” Cas said. He looked at Dean curiously.

Dean didn’t know what to make of that. He’d had a lot of down time to think over the last couple of days. Claire’s suggestions hadn’t actually clarified anything, but they had focused his attention.

“So, if Gabe isn’t still trying to get you less attached to us…”

“To you,” Cas said. “Singular.”

Dean’s heart did an impressive imitation of a deranged hummingbird on crack at that.

“To me, then,” Dean forced himself to continue, “what now?”

“The situation remains unchanged,” Cas said. “I am still immortal, if not invulnerable. You, on the other hand, are neither.”

“That’s true,” Dean admitted. It was selfish of him to even think there would be a way they could have, well, anything. All the years they’d had so far, any other time they might add to it, all of it would be gone in the blink of an eye for Cas.

”If Gabriel’s insinuations are correct,” Cas went on, “then that may not be as insurmountable an obstacle as I have long feared.”

Wait, what?

“Dean.” Cas turned slightly to look at him. “When I raised you from perdition, I felt certain that I recognized your soul.”

“Huh?” Dean asked eloquently.

“At the time, I believe I convinced myself that I was merely recognizing the threads of Fate’s tapestry. If my brother is correct, it is possible that we knew each other in a previous life.”

“A previous life in which you were Thor?” Dean asked. 

“Perhaps.” Cas grimaced. “I believe that is why our conversation after that movie triggered this series of events. I suppose I should be grateful that he did not, in fact, encase you completely in amber.”

Dean goggled at him for a minute. He had lots of practice getting his head around bizarre supernatural crap, but this might actually take the cake.

“So reincarnation is real?” he asked.

“Within certain contexts, yes,” Cas agreed. 

Dean wasn’t sure he wanted to know what those contexts were. Well, yeah, he did. Because if he’d been on some infinite loop again (or always), he kinda wanted to know about it for sure.

“Adherents of certain religions, for one thing,” Cas said. “Though I do not believe that would be relevant if you were a mortal who worshiped the Norse Gods.”

“Then what? And am I suddenly going to remember any of this?” Dean wasn’t sure how he felt about that.

“It is rare for humans to truly regain past life memories, much lore to the contrary,” Cas said. “However, you are extraordinary, so it would not surprise me to find that you were an exception.”

“Can’t hear your true voice,” Dean said bitterly. “Don’t go expecting me to be an exception to other stuff.”

“Dean,” Cas said softly. 

“No, I’m just a random human, Cas,” Dean said. “Whatever else you may think, there’s nothing special about me. You, on the other hand, aren’t even just an angel. You’re also a God!”

“Don’t be ridiculous!” Cas grabbed Dean’s shoulder right where he’d once left his hand print. With a rough tug, he pulled Dean closer, and then his lips were on Dean’s.

Dean thought he might have just died and gone to Heaven. Or Valhalla. Whatever. Maybe this was all a dream after all, in which case, he wasn’t about to waste any of it wondering why. He surged forward and greedily deepened the kiss.

Images crashed through his mind. Cas in some kind of armor raising a gold tankard, then throwing it down and storming away. Dean chasing after him. It was murky and confusing, and it faded away as Dean registered Cas’ fingers buried in his hair. A hungry sound escaped Dean’s throat, and he tightened his own grip on Cas, not letting him get far when he broke the kiss.

“Whatever I may or may not be,” Cas said, “you are so much more. You are not ‘just’ a human, Dean.”

There wasn’t much he could say to that, especially since he mostly just wanted to get back to what they were doing. Whether this was a dream or just some weird glitch in his own personal matrix, Dean didn’t want it to end. He pulled Cas back to him and crashed their lips together again, thrilled that Cas let him.

Because Cas didn’t have to. He was an angel. He was a freakin’ God. Most importantly, he was _Cas_ , and he was kissing Dean as hungrily as Dean was kissing him. 

__

The mattress molded to Dean’s back as Cas shifted them so that he was straddling Dean and pulling off the clothes he’d just finally put on. This kind of nakedness, though, Dean was totally cool with, and he quickly stripped Cas too, glad that he hadn’t put his tie or coat back on. An image of doing this with Cas wearing just his tie flashed through Dean’s mind, and if this ever happened again ( _please let this happen again_ ) maybe they could try that. But for now, Dean was all about getting his hands all over every inch of Cas’ body.

Cas, however, had other ideas, and once both of them were naked, he dove back in to reclaim Dean’s mouth, slotting their cocks together as he did. Shit, he was just as hard as Dean was, and Dean moaned into Cas’ mouth, digging his fingers into Cas’ back as he did.

The noise Cas let out at that had Dean throbbing with need and rutting up against Cas in desperation. He dug in harder, and that clearly drove Cas wild. Who knew shoulder blades could be an erogenous zone?

Cas’ fingers were buried in Dean’s hair again, and they tightened, sending literal shockwaves through Dean’s body. Cas shifted to one side, and Dean couldn’t help whining at the loss of contact. When Cas’ hand closed around both their cocks, though, Dean decided he could get on board with this new plan.

Cas spread their combined precome over both of them, and shit if that wasn’t hot as hell. Dean thrust up into Cas’ grip as Cas pumped them both. Cas nipped at Dean’s lips, then moved on to his jaw and throat. Dean arched his neck to give Cas all the access he wanted, and gasped out something that definitely included Cas’ name but he wasn’t sure what-all else, because this freight train wasn’t slowing down anytime soon.

When Cas sank his teeth into Dean’s shoulder, that was it. Dean yelled as his orgasm slammed through him, Cas still thrusting against him and pumping their cocks, working Dean through it before following him over the edge with a low growl.

Dean floated in a haze of pleasure, not really wanting to wake up from whatever the hell that just was. Eventually, his eyes insisted on opening and focusing on Cas, who had pulled back again. Cas was licking their combined come from his hand, his eyes closed.

“Fuck, that’s hot,” Dean muttered.

Cas’ eyes shot open and he stared at Dean intently.

“Where the hell did you learn that?” Dean asked. The second he asked, he wished he could call the words back, not sure he really wanted the answer.

“You,” Cas replied.

Dean blinked at him. “Uh, I’m pretty sure I’d remember if we’d done that before, Cas.”

“You may not,” Cas agreed, a note of sadness in his voice, “but I do. I remember everything.”

Dean’s eyes widened. “Wait, so, you mean…”

Cas leaned in and kissed him tenderly. Dean couldn’t help moaning at the taste of both of them. He hoped he’d get to find out what Cas tasted like by himself, but this was awesome too.

“I mean,” Cas said when he pulled away again, “that I remember when we first met, hundreds of years ago, when your name was Einar.”

Dean scrunched up his face.

“The name continues to suit you,” Cas said. “It means ‘one warrior.’”

Still sounded weird, in Dean’s opinion, but that was pretty badass. And Cas seemed to like it.

“It is… a lot to process,” Cas said. 

“Yeah, I guess it would be,” Dean agreed. “But, uh, we did this back then?”

“Among other things.” 

Cas’ eyes had that hungry look again, making Dean swallow hard.

“Uh, just so you know,” Dean said, “anytime you’re up for a trip down memory lane, I’m game.”

Cas gave a little smile. He opened his mouth to say something just as the door to Dean’s room banged open.

“Dean, are you… Oh my God!” Sam shouted.

“Sam? Get out,” Dean said. He couldn’t muster up the energy to be truly pissed off.

“Right. Yeah, just… yeah.” The door clicked shut.

The spell was broken though, and Cas rolled off of Dean and strode over to the sink on the other side of the room. Dean bit his lip as he took in the sight of Cas just casually walking around his room naked. Cas came back in a moment, a warm washcloth in hand, and cleaned Dean up. After throwing the washcloth to land back in the sink with a _plop_ , Cas stretched out beside Dean again.

“What happens now?” Dean asked.

“I don’t know,” Cas replied. “What would you wish to happen?”

Dean bit back a series of smart-ass replies that were variations on “more of what we just did.” That was true, but even if that never happened again, there was something more important. 

“I want you to stay,” he finally said. “I know you can’t always, but… I want you here.”

Cas nodded. “Beyond that, I suppose we can simply make it up as we go.”

“Guess that’s kinda our thing,” Dean said with an attempt at a grin.

“Oh, Dean,” Cas said, his eyes sparkling, “you have no idea.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> From firefly124: Please go check out delicious-irony's masterpost [here](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15053852) and give her lots of love for this amazing artwork!


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